Mum's the Word
by Avah
Summary: Sherlock Holmes' mother visits, everything goes fine until Watson and Holmes learn that someone is trying to kill her. Can they save Mrs. Holmes without her noticeing?


Authors Note: My sister and I were in the bathroom coloring my hair. Since I have a lot of hair, and we were bound to be in there for a while we got into a conversation and I told her I was writing Sherlock Holmes fiction. She suggested that I write one about Sherlock's mummy (yay!).

Thus, in the bathroom, this fic was formed.  LOL! Mrs. Holmes loves Watson. 

Mum's the Word 

            I found Holmes on the floor sorting through some newspaper articles. I remembered that he wasn't on a case, and thought maybe he was just looking through them for his enjoyment. Before I could say anything however, he look up at me in such a piercing way that I nearly jumped back in shock.

            "Could you not wear anything more tidy?" He remarked. I gave him a questioning look and looked down at my tweed suit.

            "Tidy?" I asked somewhat confused.

            "Yes Watson. Could you not wear something more formal?" He said throwing up an article on the coffee table.

            "I suppose I could Holmes. But whatever for?" 

            "Because my mother is going to be visiting us." He sighed.

            I was in a state of shock.

            "Your mother?"

            "Mmm, yes." He said now in his nonchalant way and resumed his task.

            I said nothing, but watched him as he gathered articles and put them into folders.

            "She will be visiting for the day." He said rising off the floor. "And she is most eager to meet you." He added.

            "Me?" I said even more confused. "But I've never met her."

            "Yes, which is why I requested you get in your most formable suit." He remarked pulling out his watch.

            I noted that Holmes had his hair slicked back in its usual manner, that he was wearing his best suit, and undoubtly he had all of his pipes hidden away in the locked drawer.

            He looked at me- the figure of a man standing in the middle of the room, obviously lost in thought.

            "Watson. Time is of the essence. Get dressed."

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I went downstairs after I had gotten dressed in my new attire, and met Holmes in the living room (which all the papers had been cleaned up). He placed a fresh rose in my buttonhole, one matching his own, and brushed the imaginary dust off my jacket. 

"Ha." He remarked, a quick amused smile on his face. It was then that we heard a soft rat-tat at the door.

"Some quick advice Old Boy, don't smoke around her, he has very sensitive lungs. And stand up straight, she was always one for excellent posture." Holmes said leaping to the door.

I self-consciously checked my suit for any dust that Holmes had missed and stood up as straight as my body would allow. 

"Oh- and don't lean heavily on your cane." He whispered ominously. I thought if he had got me even more nervous I would break into a sweat. 

Mrs. Holmes was a short, slightly plump old woman with very white hair and very gray eyes. Her face told of the many stories of motherhood, and the very tales of living at her age. She had a very calm, warm air about her, which relaxed me slightly.

"Good day mother." Holmes said politely and kissed her quickly on the cheek. 

"Hullo Sherlock." She replaced the kiss with a hug. She smiled at me as I waited nervously for their greetings to end. "And this lovely young man must be Doctor Watson." 

I really didn't know how to respond except to smile politely. She walked slowly over to a chair and sat down. 

"Sherlock has been telling me so many good things about you. I'm so glad he's making friends."

"Well your son is of a good sort." I said. "With a brilliant mind to match it."

We started a pleasant chat, which Holmes did not take part of but rather pretended to listen to. Suddenly we got on the topic of our adventures, and Holmes made the wildest start.

"Yes I have recorded our cases-"

"They aren't very exciting mother." He remarked casually.

"Sherlock don't interrupt, Dr. Watson was talking." She scolded. "Now, what were you saying dear?" she said touching my hand in a kind, mothering way. 

Holmes gave me a look that told me to change the subject. 

"Oh, that sometimes I write. A little fancy of mine." I responded.

"Well that's nice. Sometimes I wish Sherlock would pick up another hobby. All he does is solve petty trifles for a living." She remarked in a happy tone. 

I nervously glanced over at Holmes to see his reaction. He was perfectly calm and quiet, but there was a red tinge of annoyance in his face. 

"Excuse me, I think I need some fresh air." He said irritated. I saw him walk out the room quickly. Mrs. Holmes didn't seem to think this abnormal.

"I'll be right back Mrs. Holmes." I said and went after him.

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Holmes was on the curb having a smoke. He offered me one and I took it thankfully.

"It's alright Watson, I'm not upset." He said puffing the cigarette. 

"Petty trifles? Holmes does she know about your cases?" I asked.

"Of course not. Would you tell your mother the numerous dangers by being involved in your line of work?" 

I said nothing and flicked my cigarette in the gutter. 

"We better get back or she'll be wandering where we are." I said. 

As we were walking down the street I saw two shady characters talking heatedly in an alleyway.

"-I can't wait to get me hands on that old bird. Do me great pleasure to do in Holmes' mum." Said the gruff voice.

"Yeah, give him hell for puttin' me mate in the slammer." Said his partner.

 Holmes grabbed me and we both took cover in a nook near a bookshop. 

We were extremely quiet but none of us could hear what the two were saying. I stole a glance at Holmes and saw no emotion on his face. Slowly the two men moved out of the alleyway onto the street.

"Shouldn't we have them arrested?" I whispered.

"On what grounds? We have not any proof Watson." He said hastily. I watched him look over the corner to see if the coast was all clear.

"Well what should we do?" I asked. "We should warn her-"

"No!" He said with so much force I stepped back. "She mustn't know. She is old and tender-hearted, and I would never expect her to feel the burden of knowing her life is in danger."

"What will we tell her?" 

"Nothing. You must detain her."

"But what if she tries to go out?" I asked.

"Make up excuses to keep her in the house at all times, with you. Im going to follow the ruffians. Bring me my dark cloak and tell my mother that I am out doing some quick business. Walk swiftly in case they are watching."

I sped-walked to the room and hoped up the stairs.

"Sherlock is that you?" I heard the old woman call. I opened the door. "Oh, it's you Doctor Watson. Help me get this drawer open, it's stuck I see." 

"Um- in a minute." I said hastily with increasing pressure. I grabbed Holmes' cloak and threw it out the window to him when his mother wasn't looking.  

I felt a little better when I saw Holmes run off.

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"Poor Sherlock." Mrs. Holmes said still trying to get the locked drawer open. "I see he has thrown all the newspapers and cups into a corner. Here is a photograph I am trying to put away, and still he has not learned to not stuff things in his drawers."

 I had no desire to tell her it was locked and wondered what she would say if she ever did manage to see the cocaine that was hidden within it. Holmes would never forgive me if she managed a glance of his stimulants.  

"Mrs. Holmes…" I said with hesitation. "What was Sherlock like as a boy?"

She slowly made her way to the chair next to mine.

"A boy like anyone else I suppose. But he did have a rather high interest in books. Sometimes he would get in trouble, he was always snooping around the house. He always wanted to be a cop." She said as I handed her some tea.

"A cop?" I asked grinning. 

"Oh, like all boys he loved the idea of having a gun. But he is good-natured and the only way he may play with one is if he was a cop. And he loved crime. He would always play 'cops and robbers' with Mycroft, my other son. Mycroft was always picked to be the robber of course." She said taking another sip of her tea.

"Did he not have other friends?"

"Well…he's never been very social. He was very clever as a child; I think that made some children very intimidated. Oh Doctor, I'm so glad he has a friend about. He is a lovely man, and he's told me so many amiable things about you."

I would have loved to say, "like what?" but I restrained myself from the temptation.  

"Where is that infernal boy anyway?" She said in a disapproving tone.

"Oh, he went to do some quick business." I responded. "He'll be back."

"I hope he won't be late for the show tonight."

"Show?" I questioned.

"Oh that naughty boy, didn't he invite you to the show tonight? Well I invite you if he doesn't. You have a head on your shoulders, which is more than I can say for the most of us." She spoke proudly and firmly. 

She patted my hand softly and told me that I was such a good, respectable young man. I must admit I blushed quite deeply at her sincere complements as she scolded her son for not telling me they were going to the theater. 

"I believe our lunch is here." I said when Mrs. Hudson brought three trays of food in. I thanked her and she left.

"Sherlock himself doesn't cook? Oh that terrible liar! He's always telling me what I'd rather hear then what's the truth. He thinks Im so delicate. But I love him all the same." She added. No doubt she realize she was criticizing him a lot lately. I however, am ashamed to admit I rather enjoyed hearing the faults of my companion. 

"When is the show tonight?" I asked changing the subject.

"Hm? Oh, eight thirty my dear. Help an old woman out of a chair." She said lifting up her arms to me. I helped her up and she made her way to the door. Silent panic engulfed me. 

"Uh- would you like to stay here longer? I could show you my writings." I said thinking quickly, but my heart sank as I remembered that Holmes didn't want her to see them. 

"Oh you are such a gentleman; how could I refuse?" She said delighted. 

I was saved when I saw Holmes walk in through the door with is black cloak wrapped tightly around his gaunt figure. He took it off quickly and came into the room rather hastily. I gave him the thumbs up to tell him that things were going fine.

"Hullo mother." He said kissing her forehead quickly. "I'm sorry I was distracted. I had to visit someone."

"Is it a girl?" She asked. I saw him color a bit. "Doctor Watson is married." She added for effect. He smiled patiently. For the first time in my life I felt like Holmes' rival. I had never felt more superior to Holmes as I did that moment. 

"Yes I know he's married mother." I said with a strained smile. "Mother, if you want to make the show, you should change into your evening dress now. I have a cab waiting for you outside." He said offering his arm.

"See Sherlock? You really are a charming, handsome boy, you should be married in no time." She coached him as he helped her to the cab. 

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            When Holmes got back I expected him to give me a full account of what had happened. However, he just took his pipe from out the drawer and smoked it.

            "Your mothers very nice." I said in the silence. He nodded his head. "But I don't understand why she loves me so much." 

            He looked up at me.

            "Well naturally she loves you. You're everything she wants me to be." He remarked. I stood in shock.

            "What?" 

            "Oh, Maybe it's not quite that way. She just admires a man in the medicine field, and one that is married. Neither Mycroft nor I am married and it worries her." He said nonchalant. "And you are a full fledged gentleman, and you're emotional, no offense."

            "But why would she like me because I'm a doctor?" I asked confused. (A/N - I know, I make him confused a lot *_*)

            "She thinks its noble healing other people." He said puffing heavily on his pipe. "Just like a mother to love a nurturing spirit. And she likes you because you're you." He added.

            The clock struck eight and Holmes put another fresh flower in my buttonhole after we had a smoke. 

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A/N: Well what did you think? There is of course, more to the story. I'm going to write more tomorrow. 


End file.
